


SS College AU Previews + Updates + FAQs

by Kerriathechosen1



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Siblings, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Developing Friendships, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction Trailer, Fluff, Foster Care, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, M/M, Male Friendship, Mentions of Cancer, Mild Language, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Neutral Deceit | Janus Sanders, Preview, Protective Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sad Morality | Patton Sanders, Swearing, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Sides (Sanders Sides), Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Teasers & Trailers, feel free to leave any questions in the comments and I'll leave updates ocassionally as I go along, let me know what else I should tag, story in the works, there are honestly so many tags I could use but I have a feeling I've used too many already, will answer any questions in comments or in an update, will develop many recurring side characters as well, will include characters such as Remy and Emile Picani in the actual story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerriathechosen1/pseuds/Kerriathechosen1
Summary: My long-term college AU project is a little further along in development, so as a preview of what you can expect (although admittedly the first chapter is a little dark and less fluffy), here's the prologue! I will also be posting occassional updates and answering any questions you may have, and maybe even providing character forms for the already-existing characters so those who are interested can get to know the characters better. Originally I wanted this story to begin this fall, but it looks like I'll have to postpone that so that this story can be the best it can be. Because of that, though, there's plenty of time to submit any little ideas or characters you want, and they may make their way into the story somewhere! Check out the second chapter for more info. Thanks!1. Prologue (may be changed by the time the book is closer to completion and being posted)2. Form and Guidelines for Side/Background Character Submissions3. Chapter 1 - Before Graduation (may be changed by the time the book is closer to completion and being posted)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the summary description and the tags before you begin! Stay safe <3

_ December 22nd _

“Roman! Remus! You got something from Amincia College!”

Mere seconds later, two doors on the second floor slammed open almost in sync with one another. Two boys stood there, staring into each other’s eyes for what could only have been a second, but it was enough time to read the other completely.

Upon first glance, they could have been normal brothers; they had some similar features, but their outfits, hairstyles, and mannerisms were very distinct. A closer look at their faces would have revealed their identical eyes, noses, ears, mouths… They were twins.

Roman’s hair and clothes were impeccably clean and orderly. He wore a red and white cardigan sweater and black dress pants. His eyes showed his fear, but that fear was soon replaced with determination and excitement as a grin spread across his face, bringing warmth and color to his features. He tumbled down the stairs with the energy of a child on Christmas. (Not to say he didn’t still act like a child on Christmas.)

Remus, on the other hand, was a mess. He also wore a sweater, although his was green and red, with some devil imagery decorating the back. His hair had not been brushed since the morning, and scratching his head so much and rolling around in bed had left him with a very messy do. It didn’t bother him, though; he didn’t have to get all dressed up for anybody. Remus prided himself on not caring what others thought, and on always seeming to go with the flow, unhindered by the stresses of everyday life.

But this, this moment here, he couldn’t help but feel an incredible source of anxiety churning his stomach, making him want to puke. But he didn’t; though typically steered by impulse, this was an atypical moment even  _ he  _ didn’t want to mess up. He followed his brother, cackling as his twin ran straight into the wall. The noise made it easier to pretend he wasn’t scared. If there was one thing Remus feared, it was rejection.

By the time Remus got to the kitchen table, Roman already had his letter in his hands and was ripping it open. Remus reached for his letter, feeling the weight of this moment like he had barbells on his chest, or a constrictor snake squeezing the breath out of him. The hands holding his letter were shaking. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open it. Schroedinger’s letter. If he opened it, things would never be the same.

Instead, his eyes fell on Roman, who had finally opened his letter fully and was scanning the paper with a familiar intensity in his eyes. Remus had seen it many times before, whenever they were acting on stage and Roman was the hero while he played the villain, during those moments when Roman had to convince himself, and the audience, that he was prepared to do whatever it took to stop him. Sometimes that look aggravated him, made him clench his teeth and repress the desire to bruise his brother’s face with a fist, but now, he only wished for Roman’s smile to return. Roman deserved to get into this college, more than anyone else. He had to make it.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Roman’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. Pure joy spread across his face as he held the acceptance letter up high in the air. “I’m in!”

Relief showed itself in their parents’ expressions. His mother pulled him in for a hug, while his father patted his shoulder and said, “I’m proud of you, son.” Roman was getting teary-eyed as his mother showered him with praise and love. It made Remus sick to his stomach, but he still managed to share a genuine smile with Roman when their eyes met. Roman only deserved the best.

Remus glanced down at the letter in his shaking hands. Roman deserved it. But he didn’t. What if he was denied? What then? He’d be separated from his twin. He hadn’t applied for many other schools anyway; he’d put all his eggs in one basket, knowing that he wouldn’t go anywhere if not with Roman. This letter was his future. Success or doom. He shuddered.

_ ‘Well, it’s now or never,’ _ he thought to himself, as he slowly opened the letter, afraid of what he was about to read.

**_Congratulations. You have been accepted for admission at Amincia College._ **

Remus didn’t read any further. He just reread that first line, over and over and over again. His eyes teared up. He didn’t believe it. He felt… off. This was a big deal, it was supposed to  _ feel  _ like a big deal, but… why did he feel so numb inside?

He got in. Against everyone’s will, despite their antagonization and doubt, he got in. He was accepted, just as Roman had been. He was a college student with a future, not a loser destined to homelessness in a dumpster where everyone said he belonged. Remus was deemed worthy.

He spun to face his family, who were still embracing his brother like they hadn’t seen him in years. He grinned so wide he felt the stretch in his cheeks as he proudly held up his letter in the air. “I’m in too!”

His parents blinked. A brief silence fell across the household as they shared a surprised glance with one another, before turning their attention back to the least favorite son.

“... Wow. Good job, Remus,” his mother said. She looked too shocked to say anymore. Remus didn’t let his grin fade, even though her disbelief was a bit of a drag.

“Y-Yes… That’s… very good, actually,” his dad added, awkwardly looking to Roman, as if he didn’t know how to communicate with his other son.

Roman turned to Remus and flashed him a big smile. “I’m proud of you, brother. We should drink a toast!”

Their mother rolled her eyes, while their father chuckled. “I’ll go get the champagne.” Remus couldn’t believe it; they were letting him join in on the festivities. As soon as his parents separated, he threw Roman into a big hug. Roman laughed and reciprocated; nothing could ever spoil this evening, now that his future dreams were secure. And nothing could spoil such an evening for Remus, knowing that he’d be by his brother’s side for the next four years.

Their parents might not treat them equally, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have each other.

_ December 23rd _

Logan tiptoed down the stairs with angelic grace. Words were bashing against the walls like fists against a wooden plank. He moved carefully from the second floor to the ground level, hearing the dreadful noise get louder and louder. His mind began to float, already anticipating an incoming beating. From the noise they were making, he didn’t doubt he’d have some bruises tomorrow.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and stood patiently at the edge of the living room. His back was straight; perfect posture had been ingrained in his head since he was four. His face was a cool mask, a blank slate. Though, could it even be called a mask if he felt numb inside anyway?

His mother had an unopened bottle in her hand, fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. As much as they complained about  _ his  _ posture, theirs was terrible; she was leaning forward like a cheetah about to pounce. His father mirrored her stance, arms out to his sides as if beckoning her to charge.

He was the first to notice Logan. His eyes were bloodshot. “Get the mail,” he hissed, turning back to his wife. Logan nodded and slipped out the front door without another word.

It was chilly outside, as could be expected during the holiday season. Logan didn’t particularly like the cold, but he was growing increasingly worried about the warmer winters they’d been having lately. It didn’t snow until late January the last year. In contrast, May was becoming colder than it had ever been before.

Things like these, he couldn’t discuss with his parents. They wanted him to push himself academically, but when he had a theory or interesting academic subject to talk about, they would rather drink themselves to death than participate. And he’d learned early on never to pressure them into something they didn’t want to do. He could still feel the whip of the belt, flinching at the mere memory. He’d learned a lot over the years. He didn’t like to look back.

Logan grabbed the mail from the mailbox and started heading back to the house, looking through the addressee and sorting them as he went. He stopped when he saw his name on an envelope that also bore the title, “Amincia College.” The world seemed to still as he stared down at the envelope with increasing dread. This was, no doubt, either a letter of acceptance or rejection. It was the season for that, as well. He knew that rejection would only enrage his parents further.

Yet, he couldn’t avoid it. Refusing to show them, or opening it first without their permission, could end up just as bad, if not worse. Logan had no desire to visit the ER.

Logan closed the front door quietly and went to the kitchen table. His parents were still bickering in the living room, although the bottle was nowhere to be seen. Logan waited for a minute, but they didn’t seem to notice him, so he cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” Their eyes simultaneously shifted to him. “Mother, father.”

“What do you want,” his father spat. Logan held up the letter.

“I believe I’ve received an acceptance or rejection letter from Amincia College. May I open it?”

His parents’ tempers simmered, as if their heads had been cooled off with a splash of water. Fake smiles approached him in the kitchen, eyes honed in on the letter in his hands. The anticipation stung, like slowly peeling off a bandaid instead of ripping it off. He would rather get it over with immediately, and remove himself from their presence.

“Go ahead. Open it, sweetie,” his mother smiled sweetly. Logan obeyed.

He just hoped it was an acceptance. An acceptance would get him away from them. It would calm them down, hopefully. Their commitment to his future would have finally paid off.

Logan unfolded the letter and began reading the contents aloud with a steady voice.

**_Congratulations. You have been accepted for admission at Amincia College._ **

Logan heard his parents sigh in relief. They were leaning against one another now, grinning proudly at Logan and his acceptance letter. They could almost fool him into thinking it was genuine. Nothing with his parents was ever genuine, except for their hate. Or perhaps that was the most convincing, logical explanation he could find, one he could be content with -- one that wouldn’t keep him up at night wondering why his parents sometimes seemed to love him and sometimes preferred his skin black and blue.

Logan let out his own sigh of relief. He faked a smile back at his parents and continued reading the letter aloud to them. Only a little longer, and he would be independent, able to live in peaceful solitude for the remainder of his life.

_ March 25th _

A seventeen-year-old boy with light brown curls was kneeling beside the cans of vegetables in the store, frowning as he skimmed the nutrition facts label on the back. He compared the sugar levels with the rest of the brands, before nodding to himself and grabbing two cans of the lowest amount.

He strolled through the store, humming along to Dancing Queen as it played over the building’s speakers. He stepped to the beat of the music, swinging his shopping basket back and forth, causing the cans inside to slide from the back to the front to the back again.

He came across a few familiar faces as he walked down the aisles. He smiled warmly at each of them, sometimes receiving a smile in return, sometimes receiving a cold stare. He chatted with anyone whose body language told him they were willing. He had a sharp eye for human behaviors. He could read people easier than he could read a book. His social intelligence was exceptional; IQ, not so much. Not that he minded that at all; he loved who he was, the good and the bad. Most of the time.

He gathered the last of the items (not that he had much to buy to begin with) and headed for the cash register. His face lit up when he saw who was working there. It was Ellie, the kind elderly woman who lived just next door. Her face brightened up as she saw him, too.

“Patton, my dear, so good to see you! How have you been?”

Patton placed his basket on the counter and began placing the items on the conveyor belt. “I’m doing pretty well! I visited the animal shelter the other day and played with the kittens, and mom was feeling well enough to watch a pay-per-view movie with me last night. I’ve been a little stressed with school lately, but only because everyone’s been getting their college acceptance letters. I haven’t gotten any mail back yet, but I know it just takes time. And it’s not the end of the world if I don’t get in.”

By the time Patton finished speaking, Ellie was ringing up the last can. “I’m sure you’ll do well no matter where you go. You’re a bright young lad.” Patton smiled. “That’ll be $6.97.”   
He pulled out his debit card and inserted the chip into the card reader. There was a brief lull in the conversation, and then Ellie spoke up, her voice low and soft. “How is your mother?”

“She’s about the same,” Patton admitted, not letting the cheer fade from his voice or expression. Ellie looked at him in sympathy as the card reader told him to remove his card, and he did so. “Which isn’t good, but it’s certainly not bad, either, which is good enough for me.”

Ellie nodded. The receipt was spitted out. She handed it to Patton with a sad look on her face. “I’ll keep her in my thoughts and prayers. Good luck with your senior year, dear.”

“Thank you. Have a lovely evening!” Patton exclaimed back, taking his basket from the counter and walking off. Ellie watched him leave with sorrow on her face, before turning back to greet her next shopper.

~~~

Patton smiled and waved at the various people he saw on his walk back home. The spring flowers blossomed as if to greet him everywhere he went. The air was still a bit chilly, but there was certainty that summer was approaching. Patton loved the summer weather; he often caught the winter blues, and with his mom’s situation, he needed to stay positive.

When he arrived at his house, he picked up the mail from their purple “Blue’s Clues” styled mailbox. His smile faltered when he reached the front door. But he had to keep smiling; he couldn’t let her see  _ his  _ grief, over anyone else.

Patton unlocked the front door with the key in his pocket and opened it, taking a deep breath as the vanilla cupcake candle scent swarmed his nose. He locked the door behind himself, then paused to listen. The house was silent. He dropped his groceries on the table and tried to ignore the dread building up inside of him. “Mom? I’m home.”

“I’m in here.”

He instantly relaxed, hearing her calm voice from the living room. He ran straight to her. She was sitting down in the middle of the floor, watching Animal Planet on tv. Her smile was genuine, though sad. He fell to her side and gave her a gentle hug. He hoped she didn’t know how scared he’d been, how much he feared walking in again to find her unbreathing on the floor. He had a feeling she knew. She knew him far too well.

“How was your day?”   
“It was amazing!” Patton beamed and started babbling about his school day at length. His mother, who was mostly confined to the house due to her illness, loved hearing his accounts of the weather and the people he spoke with. Very few people came to visit. Years ago, when she was healthy, she would have parties and invite all sorts of people on a regular basis, so the house would never feel quiet or lonesome. But very few of those friends would come over anymore, now when she really needed the visitors to keep her sanity.

When Patton was done, he realized he was still holding the mail. He sorted it out, holding his breath when he realized one of the letters was from Amincia College.

“Mom, look--”

She stared, her expression going blank. “Open it.”

Patton peeled off the end of the envelope and took out the letter. He wasn’t sure which was better -- hope for the best and risk disappointment, or get his hopes down so there was nothing to lose. While he was still deciding, his mom was getting nervous. “Come on, open it.”

Patton unfolded the letter, holding it between the two of them so they could read it at the same time.

**_Congratulations. You have been accepted for admission at Amincia College._ **

He read through the rest of the letter, then reread the first two lines just to be safe. He turned to face his mom, smiling brightly, and found her already looking at him with tears of joy streaking down her face. He brushed away her tears and held her in his arms as she cried out, “Oh, Patton, I’m so happy for you. I’m so gosh darn proud of you.”

Patton felt his own eyes tearing up. He decided that, in this case, it was okay to let them out.

“Thanks, mom. I’m proud of you, too.”

_ March 25th _

In a dark room lit only by the bright screen of a laptop and glow-in-the-dark spiders and skulls hanging across each of the four walls, a teenage boy was curled up in the corner of his bed listening to My Chemical Romance’s Helena on repeat. He tapped the edge of his laptop along to the music with one hand, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around a brown stuffed sloth. The palms of the stuffed animal had velcro on them, allowing the palms to connect, and the boy’s head was through the loop so that the creature looked like it was hugging him.

He hadn’t started on his homework yet and it was already dark outside. He kept playing the song over and over again, trying to ignore the ever-constant tension in his chest. He knew he should’ve taken his medication, but even if he did, he wasn’t sure it actually did him any good.

The boy was wrapped up in a Nightmare Before Christmas themed blanket, adding to the spooky vibe of his room. He wore a purple hoodie and ripped jeans -- he pretty much wore them every day, since he had five pairs of the same jeans, and his hoodie made him feel safe when nothing else could. … Well, sometimes. He almost never felt safe, but he could control his anxiety better with the jacket than he could without it.

“Virgil! Come down for dinner!” a man’s voice called from the basement. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Be there in ten!” he shouted back down. Virgil wasn’t particularly loud in public, but he knew how to carry his voice throughout the rather large house. It came in handy when he was too lazy to move.

“Don’t take too long! You’ve got something in the mail!”

“If it’s another Hot Topic catalog, you can throw it out!”

“It’s not! It’s something from college!”

That was Virgil’s trigger word of the year.  _ College _ . Like flipping a switch, the anxiety in his chest tightened as soon as he heard the words. He squeezed the sloth closer to his chest but it didn’t help him relax. He pushed his laptop to the other side of the bed and jumped off. His bed was on a particularly tall set of risers; being up high was one of the little things he could do to ease his stress, and his parents were more than happy to buy them for him. Anything to help their boy’s mentality.

Virgil closed his eyes and did a few quick breathing exercises. He’d gone through some tough years in the past, before his parents knew what was going on with him, before he’d gone to a doctor, before he’d been given all the medications and lessons and therapy sessions and tools he needed to live a normal life. Even with all that, even with all the understanding and money he was worried his parents wouldn’t give him (but they did, because they loved him more than he could comprehend), it still wasn’t easy. It would never be easy. And soon, it was about to be a whole lot harder, because this was Virgil’s senior year, and next year he would probably be on his own.  _ Where  _ he’d be, he didn’t know, and tonight, in just a few minutes, he was going to find out. Virgil cursed the world for putting all this weight on his shoulders.

Once he felt adequately prepared (or, at least, prepared enough not to get sick), he headed down the stairs and swung around the corner to the dining room. His pop had been going on and  _ on  _ about the steak they were about to have, and Virgil hoped his stomach would let him eat enough that he wouldn’t upset him. The table was all set, with platters of steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a jar of applesauce sitting in the center. The dining table was far too long and fancy for their small family of four.

Virgil’s younger brother, Leo, had been adopted just two years ago at the age of five, but he was a perfect fit for their family. Sometimes there were stories of adopted children who struggled to accept their new families, who were hesitant to trust and warm up to a new family -- stories of children like Virgil, long, long ago. But Leo was nothing like he had been. Leo was a ray of sunshine in their little family, always filling up the room with his presence. Virgil noticed he wasn’t there and felt instinctively worried, but his pop, Sully, raised a hand to stop the words from falling out of his mouth. “He’s over at his friend, Timmy’s. They’re making spaghetti tacos, and he didn’t want to miss it.” Virgil shared a smile with his fathers as he placed himself in the seat across from them. He didn’t miss the closed envelope on the end of the table, within arm’s reach. It said ‘Amincia College’ on the front -- the college he wanted in more than any other. No pressure.

“Now, do you want to open the letter first or last?” asked his dad, Markus. He was looking at him with inquisitive eyes, hidden behind his glasses. Virgil hated those glasses; they covered up his eyes. His father was self-conscious about his heterochromia; his right eye was blue and his left was brown. It was one of those things he and his pop loved about him; whenever he bought a new pair of sunglasses to hide them, they argued over it.

“I’ll open it first; can’t take the pressure,” Virgil replied. He grabbed the envelope and began to tear it open, carefully so he wouldn’t tear what was inside, but without delay. He didn’t want to notice that his hands were shaking.

When the envelope was neatly opened, he pulled out the folded paper inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Markus clasp his hands together on top of the table, and Sully leaned into him, silently providing support. Virgil sighed and unfolded the paper, flipping it upright and hoping he made the right decision to get it over with before dinner.

**_Congratulations. You have been accepted for admission at Amincia College._ **

Virgil silently read through the rest of the letter, then looked back up at his fathers. They noted his lack of reaction and looked a bit worried. Then he smiled, and all the tension in the room seemed to settle.

“You did it!” Sully clapped and began to laugh. “I knew you would.”

“Congratulations,” Markus smiled, standing up and walking toward the recipe drawer. “This calls for a movie night.”

Virgil frowned. He still hadn’t done his homework. Not that he would let them know that; he’d promised them years ago that he’d stop procrastinating because it made him stress more than he needed to. “No, no, I don’t need a movie nigh--”

Markus turned and raised an eyebrow. “No movie night, no brownies, storm cloud.”

Virgil sulked. “Fiiiiiine.” But he couldn’t keep frowning when his fathers were grinning at him like that. He felt his heart begin to swell, like a balloon.

But this time -- this one, itsy bitsy time -- he didn’t think it might pop.

  
_ March 26th _

Janus made sure to get the mail every day at exactly the same time, within the hour the mail was placed in his mailbox -- usually within the minute. He knew he couldn’t trust his neighbors not to steal anything, not in the slump of a city he lived in. He couldn’t even trust the mail to be left alone  _ inside  _ his house (if you could even call it a house) -- not if it was important, that is.

He opened up the mailbox and snatched away what was inside, glancing around his surroundings as he did so. There seemed to be no one around, except for one scrawny little boy walking down the street. He couldn’t have been more than eleven years old, and his knees looked all bruised up, his shirt wrinkly and gray and his pants full of holes. Janus met his eyes on accident, and instantly regretted it when the boy suddenly went running towards him.

Janus stepped closer to his house, hissing at the boy and pulling the mail carefully into his chest. The boy seemed quick enough, and Janus could tell by the look in his eyes that he was a practiced thief. There was only one way to handle a situation like this.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” the kid asked, a hungry curiosity in his eyes. His voice sounded like it meant no harm; that was his secret, infallible tactic. Janus had his own.

With a well-placed kick to the crotch, the kid was down on the ground, groaning in pain. Janus placed a foot on top of the kid’s chest and pulled out a knife from his pocket with his free hand. He gave his surroundings another quick check to make sure they were really alone. Then he glared down at the child’s frightened eyes.   
“If you ever approach me, or this house, or that mailbox,  _ ever  _ again, I will follow you, and I will corner you, and I’ll use this to take off whatever arm, leg, or other appendage I feel like. Do you understand?” The boy nodded, whimpering as Janus’s shoe pressed down on his stomach. He removed his foot and kicked the boy in the side, eliciting a pained yelp and a few sniffles.

“Don’t come within  _ ten feet _ of anything associated with me, or I’ll make you regret it. Now, get out of here.”

He didn’t need to tell the boy twice; he booked it out of there and didn’t stop running until he wasn’t in Janus’s line of sight anymore. The eighteen-year-old sighed, sticking the knife back in his pocket and retreating into his house before another nasty incident had to occur.

Janus locked the front door and began looking through the mail in pure disinterest -- pure disinterest, that is, until he came across an envelope for him, from an ‘Amincia College.’

He dropped the rest of the mail on the counter and hurried upstairs to his bedroom to open it. Janus wasn’t too worried; he knew he fit the qualifications for acceptance, and it was only natural that he should be admitted, but he couldn’t help but listen to the small “what if” in the back of his mind that made him want to hold his breath.

He knew he didn’t have too much time, so he cautiously opened up the envelope, treating the paper with absolute delicacy. Flipping open the paper and scanning through it, he found the words he’d been eagerly awaiting.

**_Congratulations. You have been accepted for admission at Amincia College._ **

‘Accepted. Just as planned,’ he smirked. Everything was coming together.

The smirk fell when he heard the front door slam open. His body tensed and he stuffed the letter in his bag, grabbing the knife in his pocket as he peeked down the stairs. His hand let go of the knife when he realized it was just his mother.

“JANUS! GET THE F*** DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!!”

After tossing the knife on his bed -- as nervous as it made him to be without it, she’d be even angrier if she knew it was on his person -- he went downstairs to greet her.

“Yes, mother?”

Her face was already pink in frustration; with the size of her body, she really did look like a pig. “WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ANGEL ON THE PORCH?! I PAID A FORTUNE ON THAT!”

Janus sighed. “It was probably stolen. You know how the neighborhood is. I told you not to put it where people can see it; it was a stupid placement.”

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK BACK TO ME LIKE THAT. I AM YOUR  _ MOTHER _ !” His mother was on a rampage, he could see, and only violence would calm her down. Wanting nothing more than to end this confrontation, Janus gave her a push, with words he’d been meaning to say for a long time.

“Well, you’re a failure of one.”

**_SLAP_ **

Janus’s head whipped to the side. His cheek began to sting, as the sound of the slap vibrated in his ears. His eyes watered, but he blinked the tears away before turning his head back to stare blankly at the woman in front of him. He watched the hatred leave her eyes, extinguished by realization of what she’d done, and she began to weep loudly and superficially. … Well, they were  _ real  _ tears, but Janus couldn’t believe they were weeping for  _ him _ . Even if it were true, he would never accept it.

She threw him into a hug that he refused to reciprocate, alternating between pleading and demanding for forgiveness. “Please, please forgive me.” “My son, you  **_have_ ** to forgive me.” “Don’t just stand there, for  **_f***’s sake_ ** **,** you -- oh my god, I’m so sorry, you have to forgive me.” It was all so draining. Janus sighed and hugged her back, knowing it would get this over with sooner. He could pretend for just a little longer.

After all, he was one step closer to finally getting out of this place, and getting what he really wanted.


	2. Character Form + Other Basic Info

Have any characters you'd like to submit into the story? Please let me know. I have a detailed form posted down below. **You do not need to fill out the form** at all; you could fill out a little, or you could fill it all out and then give more information. It is all optional; more gives me a better sense of what you want, but less gives me more creative liberty.

As of right now, if you'd like to see your character in the story, send me a message letting me know. You can send a message through Quotev, send it through my email (leave a comment when you do so I know to check spam), or simply use the comment section if you don't mind it not being private. You can submit **AS MANY AS YOU LIKE**. I'm even accepting just names, if you'd like a name to make a brief cameo in some random way. I need all sorts of characters for this sort of project, whether it be students, professors, parents, friends, relatives, store workers, cafeteria workers, custodians, past romances, old high school acquaintances, pets, etc. If you have a list of a half-dozen names but no idea what to do with them? Anything helps! They can be serious or puns. Literally **anything**.

Even if you aren't in the fandom (which would be strange if you are reading this), PLEASE submit your ideas! This current stage of development is really crucial. You can request a way for your character to pop up, but keep in mind that most of them will have few appearances. Some may be the Neville Longbottom of the series, a side character who gets a huge role down the road; some may be unnamed, except for in roll call. I'm willing to work with you to make this as entertaining a world and story as can be :) Any ideas are helpful. Please share this with friends, fanders or not. Thanks!

 **I am not accepting co-authors** , however; the plot is pretty set, though feel free to send me ideas of little things you might like to see. The story will be spread across four books, one for each year of college. The characters of Remy and Dr. Picani who are not really Sanders Sides characters will still be in the story, though it mainly centers around our current four light sides and two dark sides (they will all be sympathetic or morally gray; no evil dark sides or evil light sides or anything). Some books will be more centered around some characters than others, but they all will get plenty of spotlight. I don't want to give too much more away, so check it out if you're interested!

Please let me know if you have any questions.

***

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**What Does Their Dorm Room Look Like:**

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**Trait They Hate Most In Others:  
Trait They Hate Most In Themselves: **

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**Seeking Romance?:**

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**Sanders Side Character They Like Best + Why:  
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**Other (Feel free to tell as many little stories about your character as you want!):**


	3. Chapter 1 - Before Graduation

_Remus - February 4th_

  
Remus felt nothing if not absolute pride when he saw his name written up on the bulletin board, with “Amincia College” written down beside his name and highlighted in yellow. It was like a dream come true -- one that, frankly, he hadn’t thought was possible. There was only one slight adjustment he needed to make.

Remus took out a green highlighter from the side pocket of his book bag and colored over the yellow; then he added devil horns to the “o” in “College” and gave the little letter a devilish tail, angry eyes, and a mischievous grin that matched his own. _‘Perfect_ ,’ he thought as he capped the highlighter and tucked it away. Even in college, they would never keep him under control.

“ _Remus_ , going to _college_!” A chorus of laughs from behind caught his attention. He spun around and flashed his audience with his signature carefree grin. There were six of them, a group of boys in Aeropostale clothing and Nike shoes, sporting fashionable haircuts and each of them wearing the trendy new Apple iWatch. They also had matching grins of a devious nature -- which once made Remus think they weren’t so different. That had been a mistake.

Something Remus had learned over the years, though, was that if you smiled and pretended that things didn’t bother you -- if you actually _believed_ it yourself (that was a bonus point) -- then you could get around guys like these without any problem whatsoever. You just couldn’t taunt them as much as they taunted you; that was stepping over the line, and you’d get pulverized before you could do a single thing about it. Remus didn’t usually mind fights, but he was in _Amincia College_ now. He couldn’t give them another reason to kick him out, not when his hopes were already as high in the sky as his brother’s ego.

The guy in the middle, a tall dark-haired boy with shiny teeth and pimples covering his head like a connect-the-dots puzzle, took a step closer. It was a step that offered a brawl if Remus rose to the challenge, but one that didn’t intend to spark it. He was the one who had spoken up; he seemed to be the only one allowed.

“Gotta say, I’m surprised. You don’t seem like you’d graduate high school, let alone get a degree. How’d you even get in?”

Remus’s grin grew; if he let it fall, they’d never leave. “Guess they thought twins was a package deal? I mean, who doesn’t?” He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively, and most of the boys wrinkled their nose or rolled their eyes. Success!

“You’re disgusting,” Sir Pimple scoffed. “Hope they kick you out first year when they realize what you are.” He gestured to the others in his group and they began to walk off.

Remus glanced up at the board, catching sight of the boy’s name next to an elite private school. When the boys were far enough down the hall, he shouted back, “Same to you!” before getting the hell out of there.

~~~

The dinner table that evening had been redecorated to commemorate the occasion. Their parents were filled with so much joy, knowing their son’s future was secured. The tablecloth had been changed from the Christmas snowy white covered in images of holly to Roman’s favorite, a bold and festive red with tiny stripes of green running across it. It was Remus’s favorite, too, but that wasn’t a factor in their decision-making.

Remus collapsed into his seat beside Roman, taking in the scent of the “Sparkling Cinnamon” Yankee candle burning in the closed window. It was snowing outside, barely visible through the window in the dark of the night. It would probably be snowing for hours yet, and then Remus would be sent out to shovel, and then again in the morning. He liked to shovel, because he loved to imagine he was digging a grave; he liked to imagine he was tossing bodies when he thrust the snow off his porch or driveway and into his yard. He liked being out in the freezing cold, sometimes taking naps out there and waking to find his body numb and his fingers blue, and Roman glaring down at him from above. He _loved_ his brother’s attention.

The dining room’s shelves were lined with trophies the boys had won over the years, in plays and musicals, in art shows, in sports they participated in so very long ago. Most of the awards were Roman’s. Remus’s were mostly kept in his room, where people wouldn’t ask too much about them, where visitors could focus on the golden child and not the demented brat who shared the womb. Remus understood; Roman was much easier to love than him.

The center of the table had pans and dishes of Thanksgiving meals on it -- turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, applesauce, fresh rolls -- the typical stuff, Roman’s favorite stuff. Remus wished they’d made a sweet potato dish instead, but oh well. At least his parents were letting them both have wine. A celebratory dinner, for sure.

“I’m very, very proud of you,” their mother stated, her voice firm, and her eyes on Roman. He beamed as he filled his plate with every kind of food available.

“We both are,” their father confirmed, filling his plate with twice as much turkey as anyone else. Roman nodded with a smile in his eyes, but didn’t say anything in return. His mother continued.

“This is your moment to shine. You’ll have to work just as hard, and be vigilant -- find every opportunity you can find to rise through the ranks. No one else is going to point them out for you anymore. You have to actively search for _everything_ , like we have.”

Oh, they sure had. Ever since they were little, their parents threw them into singing lessons, into plays and musicals and sports, everything they could to shape their perfect little child. They had very strict schedules, and stricter punishments for disobedience. They planned out every minute of their childrens’ lives, organizing everything so meticulously that it drove Remus insane.

Roman excelled. Remus did too, but he didn’t do everything with a smile and enthusiasm, and his parents didn’t appreciate his... _creative differences_ . He liked to throw his own little twist into his performances, and he didn’t like to be confined in a role he didn’t want. He loved to play the villain, and Roman loved to play the hero. Everyone swooned over Roman; everyone feared Remus. When their school performed _The Little Mermaid_ , Roman jumped for the chance at playing Prince Eric, and Remus jumped for the role of the chef. When they performed _Peter Pan_ , Roman wanted to be Peter Pan, and Remus wanted to be Captain Hook.

They were both absolutely fantastic, no one could deny that -- but Roman was loved, and Remus was hated. And they were both completely satisfied with that. Remus was, _honest_ . All he really wanted was their _attention_ , not their love. He hated, _hated_ , **_hated_ **being ignored.

“Yes, mom. Don’t worry; I’ll make you proud,” Roman promised. His mother nodded in approval, and the dinner lapsed into silence for several minutes.

Remus hated the silence. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that he broke it, but they all seemed to hold back a collective groan when he opened his mouth.

“Since we’re talking about what makes us _proud_ , I’ve got a few things to share. First of all, _you, dear brother,_ though of course we all knew _you’d_ get in, no problem.” Roman forced a smile. “Secondly, for _myself_ for getting in, because I think we can all agree we didn’t see that one coming.” He laughed, but no one laughed with him. Then he made the mistake of continuing instead of just shutting up; if there was one thing Remus did best, it was going too far. “And thirdly, for myself again, for putting Sir Princeton Pimplehead in his place. He didn’t think you and I were on the same level, to be going together to the same school. Which is ridiculous; I’ve always stepped up to keep on the same page, haven’t I, Roman? We’ll just have to show him when we get to Broadway and--”

Roman turned on him with narrow eyes and interjected. “Look here, Remus; we’re not going to be together all the time just because we’ll be living on the same campus for four years. I’m not having you follow me around all the time, and we’re not going to room together. We’ve lived in the same house long enough, and our careers can not depend on one another. We should make our way to the top on our own.”

Remus was stunned. He opened his mouth to argue, but his father spoke before he could get any words out.

“Yes, I think that’s for the best.”  
“Well said, honey,” their mother agreed.

The matter was settled. Remus fell silent. His world felt cracked and he wasn’t sure whether to try and mend it, or break it open completely.

He was going to be separated from Roman. Roman didn’t want to interact with him; he was going to _ignore_ him. The realization made it hard to breathe. He could feel himself beginning to panic. It felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. He could tell the subject of conversation had changed; his parents were talking about the cruise they were going on in the summer, about their hopes and what they needed to take care of before then. He heard them in the background, going on and on and on, their voices loud but strangely muted at the same time. He couldn’t focus; his gaze was fixed on the plate in front of him, on that lump of mashed potatoes he didn’t think he could force down his throat. He wanted to shove his _fork_ down his throat.

His parents were arguing about the football game now. He felt a familiar hand shaking his shoulder. “Remus?” It was a gentle voice. “Come back.”

Remus blinked a few times, obeying the voice. He dragged himself back to reality, the voices slowly becoming louder and more clear. When his senses were back under his control again, he realized his hand holding the fork had been shaking violently. He put down the fork and took a deep, shaky breath. His parents were still distracted, arguing with one another about the arrogance of two football players who’d committed some sort of crime. They were somehow oblivious to his brief attack. Roman was no longer touching him, but was frowning at him with a mixture of disappointment and pity. Remus’s appetite left him.

He rose from his seat and headed upstairs to his room, ignoring his parent’s calls for him to come back and clean off his plate.

His ability to care left him, too.

_Logan - February 4th_

Logan was already seated in his homeroom class by the time the first bell rang, signaling that students had four minutes to be in their homeroom classes. He drove to school early every day to speak with his teachers and ask any questions he might have. He was given a permanent pass and was there so often that the office never even asked him to flash it; they just saw his face and let him in. He pretended not to see the rolling eyes from his peers, or hear their attempts to cajole him into a conversation that would end with him feeling excluded. After so many years, he was done with their antics. He ignored anyone who tried to speak with him, unless they were a teacher or a student he respected. (Unfortunately, that left him with very few.)

His desk was already set up, his pencils and homework in order and placed visibly on top. He watched as his classmates entered, laughing as they ate pastries from the school bistro or sipped on coffee drinks. He didn’t bother reminding them that this was a food-free classroom. He used to, but then one day the teacher pulled him aside and told him it was all right. Logan lost all respect for his teacher after that; standing down to a bunch of immature children was _not_ something he would allow when he became a teacher.

One of the boys who stepped in stole a glance at Logan’s desk and groaned. “Oh, _noooo_ . There was _homework_??”

“You forgot _again_ ? Dude, this is the one class you _can’t_ forget. Not when you’ve got Logan Berry in your class.” The boy beside him sent a scowl in Logan’s direction, but Logan’s calm expression didn’t budge. Maybe if his classmates were less irresponsible, they wouldn’t hate him so much. But that wasn’t something he could say to their faces. Over the years, he learned which responses would get him harassed or dragged into a fight. It was unfortunate that most anything he said would aggravate his peers. It was better to stay silent.

“It’s not fair. He doesn’t even have to _try_ . He just wants us to suffer,” the boy mumbled in response. Logan soothed the flame inside him that sparked from those words. He didn’t have to _try_ ? That was completely false. His classmates were so dense. No one was ever surprised by his achievements, no matter how hard he worked to obtain them. Everyone he knew (minus his parents) seemed so sure that he had a bright future ahead of him, and that he didn’t have to worry, but they didn’t _understand_ . He would only have a bright future _if_ he worried about it. It didn’t just _happen_ . Logan had to continue working hard until the very end. If he slacked off even a little, if he wasn’t flawless, if he _failed…_

Logan couldn’t fail. He’d done it before, and he didn’t want to remember what might happen if he failed again.

As he stared ahead at the whiteboard, outlining the class goals for the day, Logan thought to himself that he wouldn’t miss this school, nor any of its students. Not even a little.

~~~

Logan spent his lunch period in the library, studying and reading from his textbooks. The library was his one sanctuary. It was one of the few places where no one, not even his parents, would disturb him.

Logan paused in his reading, as he felt his mind wander to college. Amincia College, his future, would be his new sanctuary. He hesitated; schoolwork was important, but for once, impulse drove him to close his books and pull out his laptop. He began looking up pictures of his future home -- its dorms, the quad, the _library_ . Logan recalled brief elements of his visit -- the quiet lounges where students worked independently, silently, respectfully; students sitting on benches and sprawled out in hammocks in the center of campus, reading books that ranged from Stephen King novels to biology textbooks; the four-floor library full of hundreds and hundreds of books, with reserved rooms where no one could distract him, where silence was actually _enforced_. The peace, the freedom, seemed to be calling him. In all of his life, Logan had never felt truly happy, not until that moment. It was possibly the biggest decision of his life, and it was an emotional one. That was why he had to be extraordinarily careful in getting his parent’s approval.

Logan remembered making lists and charts of data for his parents, finding everything he could to persuade them that Amincia was the right college for him. It was one of the few times he pulled out his courage to deceive them. He made them think it was a logical choice, when it was really a passionate one. He had to, in part, convince _himself_ that it was the right college. There were Ivy League schools, after all, and Amincia wasn’t even the number one college in his state. It was a truly difficult project to pull together, but Logan didn’t settle for less than perfection. He worked himself to the bone, and finally they agreed to let him apply.

Logan shook his head. There was no point in thinking about it now; he would indulge himself another time, when he didn’t have a test coming up. Right now, he had to focus on what he had to do to secure that future. It was so close, he was becoming distracted by the view.

Logan opened up his book again. He couldn’t waste his time. He only had so much left.

_Patton - April 2nd_

Patton carried his rather full tray across the cafeteria, beaming at the people he came across. It took him a total of five minutes to get to his seat because he kept stopping to speak with people -- teachers and students alike. Patton loved his school community; he really did.

“Finally,” his friend Jodie said, rolling her eyes when Patton finally found his way to his seat beside her. He and his friends (he had a LOT of friends) were seated along one of the rectangular tables. Before he could sit down, Jodie had already taken an apple off his tray and started eating it. Varian sat on his other side, flashing Patton a nervous smile. Patton nudged his tray, and Varian shyly took half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Thanks, Pat.”

“No problem! You look nervous today; is something wrong?”

Varian looked down at his sandwich.”Nah, just… I have an interview tonight. I’m applying for a job as a pharmacy technician.”

“That’s great!” Patton exclaimed. “You’re going to do just fine. You’ll be making thousands while I’m thousands in debt!”

“Well… I might not get the job. Depending on how bad tonight goes.”

A chorus of annoyed groans and firm denials broke out, causing Varian to shrink in on himself.

“Yeah, Varian.” Jodie’s girlfriend, Isabelle, looked annoyed. “Your mom’s been there for _years_. They know you’ll have what it takes.”

“You’ve known that you’re getting that job for _years_ now.”

“Everyone there loves you. Even if you screwed up the interview, they’d give you the job.”

“You won’t mess up. It’s in your blood.” Elsa and Eliza, the Harry Potter-obsessed twins, broke out in a grin.

“You’re a technician, Varry.”

“ **_Not everything is a Harry Potter reference!_ **” Jodie shouted, in a tone that made it clear she’d said it a hundred times before.

“Everything is _always_ a Harry Potter reference! Right, Patton?”

“ _Always_ ,” Patton emphasized, causing half the table to groan and half to laugh. Jordan, who was sitting between the twins, let his head fall against the table as he groaned.

“You see Elsa and _Eliza_ ~ Were both at his size when he died ~” The twins chorused.

_“Not everything is a Hamilton reference, either!!”_

Patton laughed as he ate the other half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He didn’t have anything else except a drink from his water bottle; he tended to share most of his food with his friends. It made him feel good. If Patton didn’t do so many good acts a day, he could fall into a slump. Not that anyone would notice -- he was good at hiding it.

“Varian, relax. You’ll do fine,” he told Varian once he had finished his sandwich. He patted his friend on the shoulder enthusiastically. “If _I_ could get into college, you’ll definitely ace whatever you’re doing!”

“Why do you say _‘I’_ like that, Pat?” Jodie squinted at him. “You got an inferiority complex or something?”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Pat, the _universe_ would bow down to you if you asked it to. Of _course_ you got in.”

Patton smiled, but inside, he knew that wasn’t true. If the universe would really care that much about what he wanted, then his mother would be healthy and the world would be at peace. Patton cared far more about that than he did about college. But his mother wanted him to have the experience, regardless of her condition. She would make him leave for his own good, and he just hoped she wouldn’t leave this world while he was away.

The lunch period ended soon after, and Patton gazed around his cafeteria at all the unique faces, listening to brief segments of conversations as people passed by. His heart almost couldn’t take the emotion he felt. He loved everyone here, so, _so_ much. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to spend his days like this forever, surrounded by the people he cared for. He was afraid that, when he left, he might never see them again.

But he had to be optimistic. Patton forced a smile, turned on his heels, and headed back to class, allowing himself only one small, longing glance backwards before he disappeared into the crowd.

_Virgil - April 6th_

Virgil had arguably the strongest fight-or-flight reflex out of anyone he’d ever seen. A stranger tapping his shoulder used to be enough to send him sprinting through the grocery store, out the door, and down the road while his caretaker screamed after him. When he was about Leo’s age, if any of the other foster kids or his classmates got too close to him, seconds later they had one or two fewer teeth, and maybe even a black eye.

Those days were long gone, but Virgil still felt the guilt and shame rise in him whenever he thought of the nuisance he’d been to people. He tried so hard to break free of those bad habits -- if not for his sake, then for his family’s. The last thing Virgil wanted to do was keep his little brother from having fun when they were both safe. _‘I’m safe,’_ he thought to himself, drowning out his inner thoughts. He tried to ignore the other people, mainly teenage boys, that he saw walking about the arcade. Every time one of them passed by his brother, he had to remind himself that not everyone in the world was a kidnapper. He longed to stand at his brother’s side the whole time, but that was kind of impossible when he had to stand at the other end of the air hockey board.

Virgil took in his brother’s appearance, noting the lack of tension and focus in his face. His movements were slow; Virgil scored three points with ease, and his brother didn’t make a single comment. The distance in his eyes caused Virgil to notice the beating of his own heart and he could feel his mind giving way to the many possibilities. It scared him, because Virgil knew what it was like to be on the other end of that gaze, and he would rather die than sit and watch Leo become a hopeless mess like him.

“Hey.” Virgil stood up and placed his striker down on the table. “Something’s on your mind.” His brother just looked down at his feet, unresponsive. Virgil’s gaze softened. “Come on. I’ll get you some ice cream.” A wide grin spread across the little boy’s face, and his older brother couldn’t help but snort at the sudden change. Ice cream -- the way to Leo’s heart.

~~~

They sat down at a bench a ways away from the food court, to appease Virgil’s anxiety. They’d each gotten a cup of Dippin’ Dots -- Leo had cookies ‘n cream, and Virgil had plain chocolate. Leo was halfway through his cup when Virgil decided to cut to the chase. “So, what’s up?”

Leo sighed miserably. “It’s just… we won’t be able to do this anymore. Not after you go away.”

Virgil’s heart sunk. He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “That’s not true. I’ll be around every break, and we’ll go to the arcade, or the movies, or wherever the heck you want.”

“I’ll still miss you every day,” Leo murmured. Virgil pulled him in closer.

“You won’t have to. I’ll hang out with you on Steam every single day.”

“Every day?”

“Every day.”

Leo smiled, though tears were threatening to leak out of the sides of his eyes, and squeezed in closer. “You’re a good big brother.”

Virgil chuckled. “Yeah? Well… you’re the _best_ little brother.”

They held each other close, reminding themselves that, no matter what changes came with growing up, they would always have their family. No matter the distance.

_Janus - April 7th_

The smell of burnt kidney beans and canned sweet potatoes swept throughout the kitchen and made Janus want to puke. After all these years, you’d think his mother would learn which foods can be combined and which shouldn’t, but no, she _had_ to experiment with everything. Watching her sprinkle in the last of their cheese, he felt nothing but pure irritation towards this woman. He would have gladly lived off hot dogs for a week, rather than be subjected to… _this_.

Janus shook his head and tried to focus on his calculus homework. School wouldn’t last much longer anyway, but he needed a 5 on his final AP test, for his pride, if nothing else. Perhaps it would help him win another scholarship. Either way, it would at least let him skip some of the boring first-year classes, and focus on the ones that actually mattered.

“Oh, look at you, so hard at work!” his mother cried. She sounded proud, but Janus wouldn’t let himself believe that. He _couldn’t_ . He didn’t want to. “You’ll be graduating in just a few months, and then we can finally get out of this shit-hole and have some _fun_!” His mother continued to stir the pot, sniffing it every once in a while and contemplating throwing something else in.

“Like what?” Janus asked, pretending to sound interested.

“Like whatever the f*ck we want!” She turned back to him with a cheerful gleam in her eye, and he slipped on a fake smile. As always, she was easy to fool. “It’s the life -- ridin’ around, doin’ odd jobs, no one tellin’ you you can’t go! Across the country, livin’ it up at the beach, getting some sun on our skin… Just a little longer, and we’ll be free. Just you and me, you’ll see.”

Janus continued to smile, beginning to wonder if he’d ever had a genuine smile in his life. That should have been his tell, her warning that things were not going to go the way she planned. She was absolutely insane if she thought her son wanted anything to do with her. She wouldn’t be able to drag him down with her much longer. Janus had struggled and fought for far too long, and his freedom was right around the corner.

And his mother had no part in it.


End file.
